You Don't Know Me
by Gracie-Joy
Summary: A certain gentlemen tries to persuade a pretty girl to go on a date with him. The only way he can is to guess who she is. Is he devious enough to win her over? One shot.


**You Don't Know Me**

**A/N: Just a quick little one shot that I thought of. I realise our main man is out of character but I've always loved a playful Darcy. Do enjoy (:**

"You don't know me," she said daringly. Her green eyes narrowed as she leant forward, her hands providing support for her chin. The gentleman bent down, his palms supporting his weight against the white marble table in the bustling London coffee shop.  
"I can guess," he said slyly. The girl raised an eyebrow and nodded her head, gesturing that he was welcome to try.  
"But suppose I'm right," he ventured, leaning impossibly closer, his blue eyes trained directly on her button nose.  
"Suppose you are," she agreed, a small frown settling between her brow and a smile twitching at her lips.  
"That means of course that you owe me a date," he said seriously. Her lips formed an 'o' but she made no move to remove her chin from her hands.  
"Of course it does," she humoured the man. She observed once more his dark tousled hair and decided that it complimented his intriguing eyes perfectly.  
"I'll pick you up at six," he grinned triumphantly. She let out a clear laugh and his lips twitched at the sound. It was more magical than he had imagined.  
"But, sir, you still don't know me," she sighed dramatically and moved to pick up her worn copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. The man frowned and slipped into the booth opposite her to make his assessment.  
"A dedicated literary proficient," he said nodding towards her book where tear stains and dog eared pages marked its use.  
"How insightful," she mused, her eyes not wandering from the page.  
"A fanatical sports woman. Netball and marathons'," he continued, his eyes wandering from the netball symbol on her jersey and his previous glance at her purple and black Nike running shoes and running shorts.  
"Very observant," she told him dryly, this time her eyes crinkling in amusement.  
"Basketball fanatic but not at all able to play. You're just too short," he teased after spotting an NBA band around her wrist. Her eyebrow raised and her lips twitched and he took encouragement from the signals she showed.  
"You like to laugh. You find amusement mostly in people and their odd commodities, their strange habits and you only sit this close to the register to guess what beverage the next person in line will order," he said. Her head shot up and she carefully placed her book on the table.  
"Do continue," she stared at him intently and he smiled.  
"You like uniformity and precision. You were the leading student director for most high school productions and to this day you still run the volleyball squad and arrange marathon team meetings," the gentleman said, with each word he leaned closer towards the girl with the dark locks pulled up in a high ponytail.  
"You're independent. You still live at home but refuse to be bossed around by your parents but mostly your father and older siblings," he said.  
"You're currently at University studying literature but only as extra credit. You major in clinical science studies and human anatomy. You're fascinated by science," he trailed off. Silence followed his precise accusations and an intense meeting of eyes filled the gap. Each one was determined to out stare the other but before long both realised how impossible it would be.  
"I happen to love tennis," she finally said. The gentleman nodded deeply, conceding to the point.  
"Of course. Who could resist the urge to wallop a yellow ball over a net for fun?" he replied smoothly. Her eyes narrowed impossibly more.  
"I was only second in command for high school productions and my greatest confident is my father. I avoid my perpetually demanding mother at all times. My older sister is by far the sweetest, good natured girl you would ever have the pleasure of meeting," she told him pushing back her chair, the metal legs grating on the wood with an eerie screech.  
"And I do not sit at this table to guess what people will order," she huffed before beginning to stride away. The gentlemen reached across the table and picked up her forgotten copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. He opened to a random page where notes in grey pencil were scrawled and large question marks dotted the page. Coffee stains had marred the pages, tinging them with a homey scent. He imagined her curled against the sofa, pencil clutched between her teeth, alternating with the mug she held with one hand and the book she clutched with the other, a warm blanket pulled over her legs in front of a glowing fire in the dead of winter.  
A shadow fell across the pages as he thumbed through and a discreet clearing of ones throat was heard beside him along with an uncomfortable tapping of fingers across a metallic object. Her watch? He felt a smile tugging but resisted the urge to let it break through.  
"Maybe I do watch people…" the girl admitted in a small voice. He tipped his face to look up at her and he placed her well-loved book in her outstretched hand. "But only because you can tell a lot about a person by the drink they prefer. You for example were exactly as I expected. Coffee. Black, no sugar, no milk. Mysterious, a man of control, integrity and an obvious pleasure in enclosing himself in peoples personal lives," she stated. His lips twitched again at her statement, only slightly thrown by her accurate description of him.  
"Lizzy Bennet. You can pick me up at six," she said quickly.  
"William Darcy. I'll be happy to oblige," he smiled and shook her hand, not at all surprised by the strong grip but definitely jolted by the warmth the rushed to his fingers and then sudden addition of himself curled at the opposite end of the sofa, their legs tangled beneath that blanket.  
She pulled her hand quickly away and snatched a pen from the table and sketched her number and address across a napkin.  
"Don't be late, Mr Darcy," she mused, her eyes flickering over him once more before dissipating into the sea of people that surrounded them that cold winter's morning.  
Darcy couldn't banish those fine eyes from his mind for the rest of the day.

**A/N: I hope you liked it!**


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